When the Ground Gives Way

I thought I was taking a step toward stability. Instead, I found myself starting over, with more questions than answers.

A Decision I Thought I Could Afford

The last few weeks have been difficult. Not because I haven't been trying, but because I thought I was finally getting somewhere. Then, in the space of a few days, the ground gave way beneath me.

About a month ago, I had breakfast with a leader at Whitestone. We talked about my job search, and he mentioned that his wife worked for a large international courier company. There might be an opportunity for me there.

It wasn't the job I ultimately wanted, but it looked like a stepping stone. It paid better than Wendy's, offered benefits, and had the potential to lead to something I would enjoy and do well at. More importantly, it offered the possibility of a livable wage and some stability.

I needed something different. October meant the Uber Eats season was winding down, and I hadn't been able to deliver since early August because my bike had broken down. Wendy's was keeping me going, but it wasn't going to get me where I needed to be.

A few weeks later, the leader sent me a link to a job posting. His wife couldn't get me the job, he explained, but he thought I had a good chance. I applied, completed the background check, and received an offer a few days later.

There was one problem. They wanted me to start in less than two weeks. That wasn't enough notice for Wendy's, and I don't like leaving an employer in a difficult position. My best friend, who also happens to be an assistant manager there, told me I'd be a fool to pass up the opportunity. It paid better, offered excellent benefits, and could open doors for me.

I talked it over with other people before deciding. I don't like making hasty decisions, but I believed this was an opportunity I couldn't afford to lose.

So I gave notice. My last day at Wendy's would be October 10, 2026.

At the time, I thought I was making a difficult but sensible decision. I had no idea how much that date would matter.

On Tuesday, October 6, I had an appointment with Ontario Works to go over my application. Apparently, my file had been lost in the system.

I arrived on time with all my documents prepared. The worker even complimented me on how organised I was. I provided the information they needed, all of which matched what I had already submitted.

Then came the problem.

My July Uber Eats earnings were considered self-employment income, which affected my eligibility for August. Ontario Works had already paid me, so I was facing a possible overpayment that I would have to repay.

I explained that I was about to start a new job and had another promising interview that afternoon. The worker gave me two choices. I could continue with my application and deal with the overpayment, or I could voluntarily withdraw it. If I withdrew, I wouldn't owe that money, but I would have to apply again if I needed assistance in the future.

Neither option was ideal. But I was expecting to start a new job in just two days. I weighed the risks and decided to withdraw.

It was a calculated risk. I walked out knowing that if the new job didn't work out, I had no other money coming in.

I was nervous, but I believed I'd made the right decision. Things simply had to work.

I left for my next interview.

It was in Manotick, at the southwest end of Ottawa, and getting there by public transit turned into a small adventure of its own. I took a bus, transferred to a train, and then transferred again. Somewhere along the way, I realised I wasn't going to make it on time. I got off and ordered an Uber. I arrived just in time.

The interview was for a driving position with a company I knew. I had the qualifications, although I lacked some of the direct experience they wanted. Still, the interview went well. The hiring manager seemed impressed with my answers and said I'd hear back by the end of the following day.

Afterward, I went to Whitestone. Nothing particularly significant happened at the meeting. But I go because routine matters, and because being around people who support me matters.

I was trying to build a life that could hold together. I needed all the support I could get.

Waiting for an Answer

The next day was difficult.

I waited for the call from Manotick. It never came.

Something else did, though. A few weeks earlier, I'd started volunteering as a greeter at my church. I was added to the church hospitality group on WhatsApp, which is how the volunteers communicate. Messages of welcome started coming in.

I hadn't expected that. It felt good to have people reach out and wish me well. It was a small thing, but it mattered.

That night, I went to bed early. My new job started at 5:00 a.m. at the airport, which meant getting up at an hour I wasn't accustomed to. Working until after midnight at Wendy's and then trying to turn around for a shift before dawn wasn't going to be easy.

But this was an opportunity. I was willing to put in the effort.

Three Days

I woke up at 3:45 a.m. on Thursday.

There was no bus running early enough, so I had to take an Uber to the airport. It was expensive, but I didn't see much choice. The job paid better than Wendy's, came with excellent benefits, and offered a realistic path toward something more. I thought it was worth the cost.

I arrived early. Punctuality was clearly important to the company, and I wanted to make a good impression.

The first day was mostly computer training.

After work, I checked my email and found the answer from the hiring manager in Manotick. I'd interviewed well, but another candidate had narrowly beaten me out because they had more relevant experience.

I was disappointed, naturally. But I understood. Sometimes someone else is simply a better fit for a particular position. At least I had an answer.

I still had the courier job. I was going to make the most of it.

Friday's shift started at 5:50 a.m. That gave me enough time to take the bus instead of paying for another Uber, saving around $30.

There was more computer training, followed by hands-on work unloading packages from a Boeing 757. It sounds straightforward enough, but it's physically demanding work. I thought I was doing reasonably well. My side of the container was emptying faster than the other side, where another new employee was working.

I left that day feeling cautiously optimistic.

After work, the director of the ministry that owns my home helped me by driving me and my old bike to the bike shop. My replacement bike had arrived. The shop was going to transfer my better tires to the new bike and return the original tires to the manufacturer. Unfortunately, they couldn't do the work until Tuesday. I'd hoped to ride the new bike home, but that wasn't going to happen.

I also learned that my visit with my two older daughters, scheduled for the following week, had been cancelled because of Thanksgiving.

It was another disappointment, but I was trying to keep things in perspective. I had a job. I was earning money. I was working toward stability.

Then Saturday came.

My shift started at 5:00 a.m., which meant another Uber ride costing around $30. I arrived about ten minutes early.

Before I could get to the door, a manager pulled me aside.

He told me they wouldn't be continuing my employment. When I asked what had happened, he said I should know why. He then told me I hadn't passed probation.

That was it. No meaningful explanation. No specific concern I could address. Just a dismissal after three days.

I'd shown up on time, followed instructions, and done the work I'd been asked to do. I thought I was doing reasonably well. I had no idea what had gone wrong.

My mind went straight to the possibility I had been afraid of all along. I wondered whether someone had Googled me and found my history in the United States.

I don't know if that's what happened. Nobody told me that it was, and I have no proof. But when someone tells you that you should already know why you're being dismissed, it's hard not to search for the worst possible explanation.

Whatever the reason, I was out of a job after three days.

I'd just spent more than $30 getting there. Now I had to make the walk to the bus stop, embarrassed and trying to process what had happened.

I felt worthless. Like a loser. I couldn't even hold down a decent job.

I know God doesn't promise us an easy life. I wasn't expecting one. I was just looking for a fair shot at getting back on my feet.

Three days. That's all it took for what I thought was a step forward to become another setback.

Now What?

When the ground gives way, even the simplest journey can feel like a long walk through uncertainty. Sometimes, all we can do is keep moving forward, one step at a time.

I caught the bus within about ten minutes of leaving the job. I had a ticket in my wallet, but the driver printed me a day pass instead of a transfer.

Maybe he could see that I'd had a rough morning. Maybe it was just a mistake. I don't know. But at that moment, it felt like a small act of mercy.

I went home and went back to bed. I slept for about two hours. I felt a little less tired when I woke up, but no less angry.

I had every reason to be upset. I'd left Wendy's for this opportunity. The courier company needed someone quickly, and I believed that if I didn't accept the offer and start when they wanted, I'd lose the opportunity altogether.

So, against my usual principles, I'd given less notice than I thought was right. About nine days. I'd tried to make the best decision I could with the information I had.

My best friend had told me he would probably have made the same decision in my position. He understood why I'd taken the risk. But now there was a problem.

I asked him whether I could return to Wendy's. He told me it wasn't that simple. The store manager was upset about the short notice, and there was no guarantee I could be put back on the schedule.

I understood. I didn't want my friend to stick his neck out for me or ask for special treatment. But understanding the situation didn't make it any less frightening.

I'd given up the job I had for the job I thought would help me move forward. Now I had neither.

I spoke briefly with the executive director of the ministry that owns my home. He was sympathetic and said we could talk more the following week. Perhaps he had ideas I hadn't considered.

I still had one last shift at Wendy's. I worked it and left close to 1:00 a.m., exhausted and defeated.

I wouldn't be returning to Wendy's. That door was closed, too.

Showing Up Anyway

Sunday morning, I got up around 7:30 and headed to church. I caught the bus and arrived on time.

I dreaded one part of the morning: people asking how my new job was going.

I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to explain what had happened, or try to make sense of something I didn't understand myself. But I was wearing my name tag, and I was there to serve as a greeter.

I was glad to be there.

It was a baptism and baby dedication weekend. Three babies were dedicated to the Lord, and nearly a dozen people were baptised. There were plenty of visitors, including people who had come to support family and friends. I was happy to help people find their way.

For a while, I could focus on something other than myself. I could welcome people, point them in the right direction, and be useful.

Then I learned that I'd need to complete Plan to Protect training, the church's abuse-prevention training for people working with children and vulnerable adults.

That brought up some uncomfortable feelings.

I have a history in the United States, and the thought of going through this training stirred up shame and guilt. I started worrying about how things might look, even though nobody had said anything to suggest there was a problem.

I spoke with my pastor. He knew my background and reassured me that the training was about the church's policies and procedures. He explained that those policies were consistent with the precautions I already take.

I appreciated what he said. I had no reason to think he was hiding anything from me or simply telling me what I wanted to hear.

Still, I felt uneasy. I suppose I was worried about optics, about how my past might be viewed even when I was trying to do the right things in the present.

I went home that Sunday still feeling depressed. I was angry about what had happened at work, worried about money, and struggling to see how I was going to get back on my feet.

I felt like a loser all over again.

I've started doing Uber Eats again, but it's not a long-term solution. October is already late in the season, and realistically, I may have only another week or two of reliable earning weather before conditions become much more difficult.

I'm looking for work. I have experience, qualifications, and a willingness to work. But starting over from zero is complicated, and right now I don't have the stability that comes with knowing where the next paycheque is coming from.

I've received my final paycheque from Wendy's and my first—and only—paycheque from the courier company.

There isn't another one waiting for me.

I've spoken with the executive director of the ministry that owns my home. He's sympathetic, and we've discussed my situation, but we haven't found any practical solutions yet. His advice has been to trust God.

I understand what he's saying. I really do.

But I'm struggling with that right now more than I have in a long time.

There's a passage in Mark that keeps coming to mind. A father brings his son to Jesus, desperate for help. When Jesus tells him that anything is possible for someone who believes, the father responds:

“I do believe, but help me overcome my unbelief!” — Mark 9:24 (NLT)

Those words have never felt more real to me.

I do believe. I want to trust God. I know that faith isn't a guarantee that everything will work out the way I want it to. I've written about that before. I know that following God doesn't mean I'll never struggle, never lose, or never find myself afraid of what comes next.

But there's a difference between knowing what I believe and knowing how to live it when I'm staring at an uncertain future and running out of options.

I thought the courier job was a step forward. I made the decision to leave Wendy's because I believed it was the right opportunity. I asked for advice, considered the risks I could see, and made the best decision I could.

I didn't expect everything to be easy. I thought I was finally getting some traction.

Instead, I'm looking for work again, hoping the weather holds long enough for me to earn some money delivering food, and wondering how I'm going to manage when it doesn't.

I don't have a neat conclusion to this story. I don't know where the next job will come from. I don't know how the financial pressure is going to ease. And I can't honestly say that I feel some great sense of peace about any of it.

People tell me to trust God. I want to.

Right now, trust feels a lot harder than it sounds.

I'm still going to church. I'm still showing up at Whitestone. I'm still looking for work and trying to do the things I need to do. I haven't given up, even if there are days when I feel completely defeated.

Maybe that's where I am right now. Not in a place where I have everything figured out, or where my faith has made the uncertainty disappear. I'm just trying to keep moving forward when I can't see very far ahead.

I wish I knew how this was going to work out.

I don't.